


Reflective Perspectives

by LooneyLunaFan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooneyLunaFan/pseuds/LooneyLunaFan
Summary: Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts for her 8th year and is unsurprisingly named Head Girl. The great shock comes when she is summoned to a meeting with Professor McGonagall with the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. She doesn't trust him, he doesn't like her, and Dumbledore left something for the two of them. If these two are unwilling to get along on their own, perhaps they  just need a little assistance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A Few Author's Notes:  
> I got an extension, and another extension. I got so many extensions that I thought the Mods were trying to replace Oprah. You guys are seriously the best, even when I'm cutting it onion skin-thin to the very last deadline. I absolutely LOVE this fest, and I can't thank you enough for putting it on every year. It really helps me feel a connection between HP and my other literary loves. Also, my Beta Ashley deserves high praise for always being willing to meet with me irl and Beta at the last possible moment.
> 
> Summary from my memory boosted by Wikipedia  
> Written by Robert Louis Stevenson and know today as _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ , the story is told from the perspective of a lawyer looking into odd happenings between Dr. Henry Jekyll and what comes to be known as his evil alter ego, Edward Hyde. After ingesting a potion, Jekyll turns into Hyde, the self-indulgent and uncaring version of himself. Eventually Hyde emerges in the middle of the night and over the course of a year commits various crimes that raise concerns for the lawyer. Jekyll is able to stave off the transformations by taking a new potion and partaking in philanthropic work to counter the darker side of his nature, but eventually he is transformed again. The story ends when Jekyll understands that an ingredient in this new potion is running low, and eventually he will turn into Hyde permanently.

**Part One: Returning Home**  
To begin, Hermione Granger wasn’t an ordinary student. She could have avoided being a student all together. But she valued education, she knew the Wizarding World looked to her for guidance, and a small part of her was ready to return to the safety of Hogwarts, although it had been a battle ground four months ago. Still, it had been her home for entirety of her teenage years, and she needed to return, if only to put on a show of growth and prosperity. 

As she glanced around the Prefect’s carriage, it seemed she was not the only one to think so. Draco Malfoy was also in the quarters. Thanks primarily Harry Potter’s testimony regarding his mother’s protective involvement in the Battle and Draco’s actions the night Death Eaters were broken into the castle, the man hadn’t earned much more than a slap on the wrist for his part in the death of Professor Dumbledore and the ensuing war. It amazed Hermione that he was permitted to return, much less that he retained a position of authority. It was the Headmistress’ decision though, and Hermione would never challenge the rule of her former Head of House.

“Right, let’s get started, shall we?” Although she hadn’t been a student for over a year, Hermione quickly took on her former role as leader, enhanced by the Head Girl badge she now bore. “First of all, congratulations to each of you. Accepting the position of Prefect demonstrates your commitment not only to your houses, but to the maintenance of the rules and regulations that create a cohesive and functioning school. Without you, the professors would-“

The speech was interrupted by a derisive shriek of laughter from a dark haired girl near the corner who had been leaning in to the aforementioned Malfoy. Hermione pursed her lips, expecting an explanation. When none came, she prompted, “Oh, Pansy, please enlighten all of us as who what is so hilarious that you saw fit to distract the entire carriage.”

“Oh, it was nothing at all.” Hermione had to force her eyes not to roll as she watched the dark-haired witch whisper something behind her hand to her fellow Slytherin. McGonagall had likely been under the Imperius Curse when she agreed to let both of them back into positions of power. She understood that the school wanted to “get back to normal” as quickly as possible, but this was almost ridiculous. It was evident that neither Parkinson nor Malfoy had intentions of upholding the rules any more than they had before. This would be a disaster. Hermione didn’t get to make the that call though, so she attempted to continue facilitating the meeting, pointedly ignoring the childish way the eldest Slytherins continued their quiet conversation.

The Prefects were let free shortly thereafter, having been given their responsibilities for the first night back and the time and place of their meeting the following afternoon to outline patrol duties. “Malfoy,” Hermione began, tucking away the last of her papers as the carriage emptied. “A word, if you don’t mind.”

Without looking in her direction, Draco moved toward the exit. “I actually do mind, so I’ll be going.”

With a flick of her wand, Hermione slammed the door closed in front of him. “Listen here, you pompous ferret. You’re more than welcome to hand the badge over to literally anyone else, and they’d be more deserving. You weren’t forced into the position, and this antagonism is only going to set a bad example for other students.”

“I don’t back down, Granger.” He tried to pull the door open again, but it remained resolute. “I also don’t take kindly to being forced into positions, as you put it, such as being stuck in here with you. Unlock the damn door.”

“Gladly. Just realize if you keep up your attitude, we’ll be having this conversation again in McGonagall’s office. If you actually want to be a Prefect and do something productive with the responsibilities you’re granted, you’re doing a poor job of showing it. Everyone already thinks the worst of you. Don’t give them more ammunition to fear you.”

“Everyone?” Malfoy finally released the handle and instead stepped up to Hermione. “Including you? Do you fear me, Granger?” His steely eyes and lowered voice would have intimidated almost anyone else. Hermione didn’t even try to hold in her laughter. 

“Not in the slightest, Malfoy.”

Sidestepping him, she unlocked the carriage door and moved out into the lightly jostling corridor. With Harry and Ron already beginning their Auror training program, she felt a little alone, but went to find fellow Gryffindors, including Ginny. As she reached the door that would take her in to the next carriage, Hermione looked back at the one she had just exited. Draco was still there, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe he had been so anxious to get through. His impassive expression gave her no clues to his thoughts, so she left him behind and began the hunt for her friends. 

~~~

The Welcome Back feast went smoothly as the new first years were sorted, everyone indulged in the lavish food, and the Headmistress stood to make final remarks. “Additionally, there is still construction work being done around the castle. Mind any posted notices and avoid being underfoot where you don’t belong. Prefects, please lead your new students to your respective Common Rooms. The Head Boy and Head Girl will also meet me in my office following the completion of your duties. Good evening.”

Bench legs scraped a disjointed song throughout the Great Hall as everyone stood and stretched. Hermione jumped up with enthusiasm and began leading the first years without hesitation. She was certain she could have managed to lead them all without any assistance, but the other Prefects needed to have the experience. After all, she wouldn’t be around forever. 

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was slightly bitter to find that she wasn’t needed at all. It wasn’t a real surprise though. Up until this year, there had never been 8th year Prefects. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the other houses had them too, she would have guessed that she was only given the title in order to obtain her Head Girl status, which reminded Hermione that she was due in the Headmistresses’ office. After checking in with each of the first year girls’ rooms, she headed out of the round entrance to the Common Room and made for the second floor.

“Uhm.” Hermione pondered the gargoyle standing guard before the office, considering what McGonagall would have made the password – certainly not a sugary treat as Dumbledore had. Suddenly the stone creature tilted its head as is if to hear her better. It nodded and then sprang to the side, giving Hermione access to the spiral staircase. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

“Thank you for your prompt arrival, Miss Granger.” Headmistress McGonagall sat in a stately chair at the desk in the middle of the room. Hermione had only been in there a handful of times over the years, but not much had changed in passing from one leader of the school to the next. Dumbledore’s portrait was hanging on the wall next to Professor Snape’s, Fawks and his perch were both gone, and McGonagall had done away with the many small trinkets and knick knacks that had once encompassed the flat surfaces. Otherwise, the office felt familiar.

“Of course. The Gryffindors are all in bed for a good night’s rest before we begin classes tomorrow.”

McGonagall gave her a knowing smile. “You might want to check on the 5th year boys when you return to the Common Room. There is a pair of them that would rival Potter and Weasley’s uncanny ability to cause mischief. For future reference, the password is ‘Denoument’.” The two shared a quiet moment of the implications before there was a knock at the door. 

“Please come in, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione froze. Surely she couldn’t have heard right. Just a few seconds ago she felt as though she and the Headmistress were on the same page. Yet as Draco Malfoy himself walked through the door, she was positive the witch she respected so much had been replaced by a Polyjuice Potion-drinking imposter. There was no possible way she would allow Malfoy to be the Head Boy. It was absolutely unfathomable. There had to be another reason this cowardly boy – this man, she corrected mentally – was on the same caliber, held the same title as everyone’s favourite war heroine.

 _He’s probably already gotten himself in trouble,_ she thought mockingly. That had to be it. Hermione crossed her arms triumphantly, but her smirk relaxed when she realized Draco didn’t look apologetic, and McGonagall wasn’t pressing her lips together as a sign of agitation. Hermione waited for someone to explain this clear hoax.

“Have a seat, both of you,” the Headmistress said, ignoring the fact that the two teenagers before her were sending short glares at each other. “This meeting is to be brief. I only want to explain a few particulars of your unique positions. Ordinarily the Head Boy and Girl are given a shared dormitory, which is available to you both, although given your recent history, I don’t believe you’re ready for the responsibilities that follow co-habitation, at least not yet.”

The thought of Draco Malfoy sleeping in a room next to hers was enough to make her skin crawl, much less the dread of sharing a bathroom or commons. She knew he had been pardoned of all charges, but there was something about his long-time support of Voldemort that had settled in to Hermione as soon as she realized Harry had been right about him in their 5th year, and it hadn’t eased up since. She didn’t think he was dangerous per say, only exceptionally untrustworthy. 

“Additionally, Professor Dumbledore suspected during your 6th year that this precise situation might arise.” When Hermione glanced over at Draco again, she saw him staring straight ahead, not really seeing what he was looking at. “He gave me this letter and potion, which he told me to split between the Head Boy and Head Girl at the start of each year.” As she spoke, she used her wand to conjure said bottle and letter. Then she paused and the entire room fell silent save for the slight rustling of curious inhabitants of the portraits on the wall.

“What does it do?” Draco was the one to ask, eyeing Hermione as she reached for the bottle. 

“I don’t recognize it,” Hermione admitted, unstopping the container to sniff the contents. It had a very light hint of Sneezewort.

“The question was directed to Mc – to the Headmistress.”

“To be perfectly frank, I’m not positive. The letter indicates that the potion will help you both ‘see the world through another’s eyes.’ Naturally I’ve had it tested by both Severus and later Professor Slughorn, but neither could find a fault or hazardous component to it. In fact they each drank some when they were observing it, and neither saw adverse effects, or any effects at all by their accounts. The two Head students last year also never reported an issue.” McGonagall’s face was set firmly, but Hermione could sense unease. 

“Professor, must we drink it?” Hermione hesitantly asked. “If nothing happened to either professor, then it may be that the potion was brewed incorrectly.” Voicing the indirect suggestion that Dumbelore had made an error allowed a heavy weight to settle on the three of them. 

“Technically, no, you two do not have to drink it.” Both students swelled a little with relief. “However, Professor Dumbledore made it very clear that the Head Boy and Girl must drink it. If you refuse to do so, you’re voluntarily giving up the position.”

“Voluntarily my arse.”

“Mister Malfoy, kindly keep your profanities to yourself.”

“You’re telling me I have to drink a potion when you can’t tell me what it will do or I have to give up being Head Boy. That’s an ultimatum, and when my father hears about this – ”

McGonagall cut him off before he could fall into his habitual threats. “I would have thought that by now you would be above relying on your father, Draco.”

Again there was a pause as the weight of her words seeped into all of them. Hermione for one was surprised. She would drink the potion of course. The level of risk seemed minimal compared to the shame of giving up the title of Head Girl. What did Draco have to lose in all of this though? If he was genuinely so concerned, why not walk away?

“Fine, I’ll drink it.” He stood and quickly snatched the bottle from Hermione’s hand and took a swig. “Probably doesn’t even work anyway,” he said, passing the container back to Hermione. Glancing down, she noticed it was still full.

“You didn’t even drink it,” she muttered indignantly.

“The Hell I didn’t.”

“Mister Malfoy, that’s two.” McGonagall’s voice rose sharply as she stood. “The vial refills. As I said, several people have drunk from it. Whatever Professor Dumbledore created, it was meant to be used for a long time. Please, take your drink, Miss Granger.” Hermione did so after casting a wary glance at Malfoy before handing the bottle back to the professor.

“One final thought before you both leave.” Hermione stilled, nervous that perhaps she would be rebuked for her actions on the train. “Do keep in mind that our aim at this school is to provide an education for all students, regardless of their past. You two should be role models for your peers on that front. Good evening to you both.” 

They were dismissed and silently followed one another out and down the stairs. 

Draco was the first to speak, though he seemed to be talking to himself. “That was utterly ridiculous. What if that potion does something hideous? That can’t possibly be legal, forcing us to consume that.”

“Well you were the first to take a drink, Malfoy,” Hermione pointed out as they neared the landing where he would head back to the Dungeons and she up to Gryffindor Tower.

Draco turned and gave her a smug grin. “I just didn’t want to have to drink after you and catch whatever germs you might be carrying, Granger.” He left her there, irritated, without another glance.

~~~~~~

Class schedules were handed out the following morning. Hermione and all other 8th year students would simply fall in to the 7th year courses as there weren’t enough of them to justify additional periods, and NEWT level classes were small to begin with. “Excellent,” Ginny said, peering over Hermione’s shoulder. “We’ll have Herbology, Transfiguration, and Charms together. We’ve never had classes together before.”

“We had the DA,” Hermione reminded Ginny, sipping pumpkin juice from her goblet.

“That’s true. Hey!” Ginny scanned her own parchment and then Hermione’s again. “Why don’t we have Defense Against the Dark Arts together? My first hour isn’t until tomorrow.”

“It conflicts with Ancient Runes,” Hermione said, laying down the parchment she had memorized. “There are enough of us who were in the DA, in addition to those who fought in the war, they must have been able to make two NEWT level classes.”

Ginny deflated a bit, digging in to some toast and eggs. “Well, three classes is more than we’ve had before.” 

Hermione nodded, finishing off her breakfast and standing. “I’ll see you in second block.”

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom often looked different. Not only did the professor change on a yearly basis, something Hermione sincerely hoped would end as the school attempted to mend, but the topics of study varied, and live demonstrations weren’t uncommon. Given the high level of expectation on the NEWT students, Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised to see a large creature in a cage near the professor’s desk. Instead, the room was nearly empty save for a few stacks of cushions. 

As she took in the sparse décor, Hermione heard a drawl from just behind her. “Something tells me we’ve had this lesson before.” Turning, she saw Draco, accompanied by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Knott. Unsurprisingly, Goyle hadn’t decided to return this year. 

“If that is the case, I suspect you’ll do very well.” Near the top of a set of stairs that led to the office of the Defense instructor stood a tall, wiry man with dark, tightly curled hair. He descended the stairs, looking over the four of them. “You’re my eighth year students, then? I recognize Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, of course. Plenty of media coverage on each of you. And you, gentlemen?” The professor moved on to greet Blaise, Theodore, and other students who were starting to move in to the room. Draco and Hermione cast the briefest glance at one another before finding space on opposite sides of the room to stand and wait.

“Good morning and welcome. I’m Professor Irving. Aside from our quick introduction, I don’t know most of you. What I do know is that you’ve all managed to earn passing marks as 6th years in this course. I’d like to see precisely what that looks like. Therefore, after a quick safety review, you’ll be partnered up and have five minutes to demonstrate your abilities.” 

Hermione glanced around to see who would make a decent partner. Padma was an option, though Hermione hadn’t quite made amends with her, Pavarti, or Lavender after their sixth year. August Moon was also in the class, though pairing with her might have been unfair to the Hufflepuff. Hermione pointedly avoided eye contact with any of the Slytherins. Although those who returned were those not connected to Voldemort, save the irksome Head Boy across the way, she didn’t pretend they didn’t have unfavorable opinions of her, Harry, and Ron.

Irving pointed to a stack of cushions on his right. “Each of you will place two of these cushions behind you in the event that you are caught off guard and do fall. Additionally, you may only exchange spells with your partner. If a member of a pairing is disarmed or knocked to the ground, combat is to stop immediately until both are ready to begin again, is that clear?” Everyone nodded.

“In order to assess your defensive capabilities, you will need to attack your partner. I expect you all to be able to use spells with appropriate force for the task. It is understood that we all have the proficiency to harm one another. That is not our goal, and self-control is essential to success in a stressful situation. To be fair,” the professor continued, “You’ll be partnered up based on your final exam scores from your 6th year.” He produced a piece of parchment from his pocket and began reading off the pairings. He didn’t read from highest to lowest scores, obvious when he didn’t read Hermione’s name first, or the reverse of that. While Hermione hadn’t been the best in her year at Defense, she’d learned not to blush when she thought of Harry earning a higher mark on their OWLs, those who were top of their class hadn’t elected to come back.

“That leaves Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.” Professor Irving brought Hermione back from her daze. “Huh, our Head Boy and Head Girl. What a coincidence.” The wide grin on the professor’s face registered as genuine to Hermione, but to everyone else in the room, this was clearly a sick twist of fate that routinely brought her and Malfoy to blows. Each kept their face impassive as final instructions were given. “Please, begin.”

As Hermione and Malfoy squared off across from their small patch of practice space, their eyes roved over the other, sizing up possible weaknesses. Neither wanted to be the one to make the first move, and neither wanted to draw the attention of the entire class. But it was an assignment, and Hermione knew the professor was watching. She made a squiggled checkmark with her wand, thinking _Flippendo_. It was a standard second level spell, but casting it silently was a sixth year skill. 

Malfoy managed to block the spell as easily as turning a handle. In one fluid motion, he went from defense to offense, ending his shield spell and sending her a spell in return. Based on the chill wind that picked up the tips of her hair as she dodged, Hermione guessed it was a freezing charm. He didn’t wait for her to take a turn before slashing the air with his wand again, hooking it to his right. 

Hermione recast her shield charm, strong enough that she thought she felt the spell bounce back a little. She smirked. _Petrificus Totalus_ was a charm she had mastered at a young age, and one Neville still reminded her of when they met at functions. Without much thought, she decided to return the spell, focusing solely on how much she wanted to prove superior to the boy in front of her. Much to her frustration, Malfoy was able to deflect her spell as easily as she had his.

Back and forth they went, neither able to catch the other off guard even though at one point they each threw two attacking spells one after another, needing to jump to the side to avoid being hit, not bothering to put up shield spells at all. It was only then, as Hermione tread on the toes of a Ravenclaw boy, that she realized she and Malfoy were the only two still dueling. Everyone else, including the professor, had created a ring around them and were silently observing.

Knowing she couldn’t afford a distraction, Hermione refocused on finding a way to surprise Malfoy. Direct attacks weren’t working. Finding a new target, she flicked her wand and sent a book from a nearby shelf toward her opponent’s head. Draco saw the object in his periphery and deflected it. This left his side exposed, and Hermione got in a solid tickling jinx before he was able to give her his full attention. The room was silent, students holding their breath, now that a spell had been landed. At first Hermione worried she had sent the wrong spell. Rather than bursting into laughter, Malfoy looked as though he was going to be ill.

“Dispel. It,” he managed to grunt, his hand coming up to his ribs as if to rub a stitch there. Hermione figured he was trying to hold it in, to put on a brave face in front of everyone. She wasn’t going to let him. He deserved to look human in front of the class. “Granger!” His cold eyes shattered her internal gloating, but she didn’t release the spell. He was going to laugh. Or so she thought, until he pointed his wand at the window behind half of the spectators.

“ _Expulso!_ ”

Hermione and Irving simultaneously shouted, “ _Protego Maxima,_ ” creating a protective umbrella over the unsuspecting students. It was an automatic response, and enough to cause her to lose her concentration on the jinx holding Malfoy. By the time the last shard tinkled on the stone floor, he was out the door.

No one said anything as eyes darted between Hermione and the professor. Eventually she spoke. “Should I go after him?” Hermione asked, slowly relaxing the grip on her wand. “I wouldn’t want him to miss it – Your lesson, I mean.”

“No, Miss Granger. I think you’ve done enough for today. Hang tight for just a moment, everyone.” Professor Irving stepped toward the now open space in the wall, carefully repairing it without letting the glass cut through the assembled students. The lesson did continue, but for one of the few times in her life, Hermione didn’t listen to a word the professor said. Once the desks were put in place, she simply sat, red faced at the insinuation Irving had made in front of her peers, that it was somehow her fault for Malfoy’s behavior, and slowly her resentment began to bubble. By the time the chimes rang to release them, Hermione had a few choice words for the Head Boy.

~~~~~

In order to prepare schedules for rounds, Hermione had requested the schedules of all of the Prefects and Malfoy, so she knew exactly where he should have been headed, and it was on the opposite side of the castle. It wasn’t until lunch that she had the chance to confront him.

“Malfoy,” she called out before he left the courtyard under the clock tower. Several students turned their heads, and she quickly closed the space between them. “A word, if you please.”

“Not now, Granger. I’m about to eat, and you know spending excessive time in your company makes me ill.” The shrieking laughter of Parkinson sent an involuntary twitch through Hermione, but she pressed on.

“Run away like you did earlier, then. That’s easier than confronting things that bother you, isn’t it?” Somewhere near the back of her mind, Hermione knew she was hitting his buttons, but they had been at Hogwarts less than 24 hours, and she was already sick of him. They couldn’t keep it up for the rest of the year.

A hint of fury flashed through Draco’s eyes before he grabbed Hermione just above her elbow and began leading her away from the school. “Fine, we’ll take a walk.” He looked over his shoulder at his companions and silently conveyed that they should go on without him. Although there were several more students looking in their direction, no one felt the need to step up to question Draco or follow them to the boat house.

Draco had set the pace, a quick march down to the shore, and halted them both without warning before turning on her. “What do you want, now? Embarrassing me in class wasn’t enough; you had to make a show in the courtyard too? Why didn’t you just shoot a spell at my back to make whatever point you feel needs to be made?”

Hermione’s rage swelled. “There is absolutely no way that you are blaming this on me! You’re the one who couldn’t be so humble to accept that you had been beaten. Instead you had to attempt to slice an entire class to ribbons to avoid laughing. And I would never hit someone who is defenseless from behind. _I_ am not the coward here.”

Draco’s hands curled into fists at his side. “Why do you always have to prove yourself the better, Granger? You knew you had hit me. Everyone saw it. You could have left it at that, but instead you wanted everyone to laugh at me. Maybe you aren’t a coward, but you’re little better than one.

“This coming from the man who allowed himself to be manipulated by his father and Voldemort for years. You’re one of the main reasons that ever happened.” Hermione thrust her finger toward one of the towers still under construction. A large chunk of the wall was still missing from where a giant had swung a tree into it. 

An unexpected calm came over Draco, and it frightened Hermione. His next words were barely a whisper. “If that’s what’s really bothering you, then there is no point in talking anymore. It can’t be undone.” He turned to leave.

“Wait a minute, we still need to-“

Draco silenced her with a glare. “We don’t need to do anything, you pretentious cow. For all your spouting of inter-house unity and McGonagall’s ‘equality despite the past,’ you’re showing less kindness than my departed aunt.” He nodded to Hermione’s arm where Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her skin. “We’re done here.”

She watched him walk back up the slope to the castle without another word. 

**Part Two: A Quick Switch**

Hermione slept terribly that night after finally falling asleep. Draco Malfoy made appearances in her dreams, always with the hard look he gave her before shattering the window or just before he had left her at the edge of the lake. For the first time in her many years at Hogwarts, Hermione woke up late the following morning.

Glancing around the dormitory, she noticed all of the other beds were empty. Flustered, she flung the bedding back as she spilled out on to the floor, rushing for her trunk where she had laid her outfit the night before. Only when she saw the neat stack of clothing did it occur to her that some things were very wrong. The trunk was the wrong colour, for one, a near midnight black instead of the bright chestnut it had always been. Her skirt was mysteriously absent as well; in its place was a pressed pair of trousers. Finally, the indicator that she was certainly the butt of some practical joke, instead of her Gryffindor tie, there was a green and silver striped monstrosity.

“Of all of the the-,” Hermione clasped her hand over her mouth, silencing the deep voice she had come to loath. “No!” The tenor grated her ears. “This can’t be happening.” 

She frantically searched the room, spotting what she needed beside the door: a mirror. Upon seeing her reflection, she stared in horror. Her silver grey eyes took in slightly out of place blonde hair, high cheek bones, blemish-free pale skin, and the faded remnants of a Dark Mark on her left forearm. This could only be one thing, something she had experienced at the age of twelve followed by a stint in the Hospital Wing that had involved too many hairballs for one girl.

A chime rang throughout the school. Only fifteen minutes until classes were to start, and she still hadn’t eaten breakfast. She glanced at herself in the mirror again, only just realizing she was seeing Draco Malfoy’s body shirtless. Blushing slightly, she quickly ran back over to the trunk to change into his uniform. 

As she did, she wondered how this could be happening. She had no recollection of drinking Polyjuice Potion, and even if she had, it would have worn off within an hour. Remembering how hard it had been to fall asleep the night before, most definitely in the Gryffindor Common Room, it seemed the only possible way was for her to be found in that manner would been to break into her room, put her under the Imperius Curse, walk her down to the dungeons, have her drink a Polyjuice Potion, and then put her to sleep. It was all far too elaborate with too little gain. It would surely wear off soon. 

Even as she thought it, Hermione got a knot in her stomach. Something told her this wasn’t a prank at all. But what then? Whatever it had been, she needed to get it sorted out right away and possibly get someone expelled for any number of broken rules. “Brewing an illegal potion, sneaking out in the middle of the night, breaking into a girl’s dormitory, using an unforgivable curse…” She had to whisper to herself to keep from hearing Draco’s voice.

Whether it was her look of pure rage or the fact that she inhabited the body of a man no one wanted to spend time around, students cleared a path as Hermione marched straight to the Headmistress’ office. To her surprise, the stairs were rotating up toward the door, and the gargoyle didn’t even attempt to stop her. 

Without bothering to knock, Hermione pressed right on in. “Professor McGonagall, forgive my intrusion, but we have a serious problem!”

Her own voice answered. “That may be the biggest understatement of the century!”

The professor turned toward Hermione. “Mister Malfoy, I assume you and Miss Granger have something more important than a petty squabble to bring to my attention.” Hermione waited patiently for Draco, who was obviously in her body, to say something before realizing McGonagall was staring at her.

“I’m Hermione! Something happened and I’m in the wrong body.” Hermione turned fiercely to face herself. “What did you do?” She shouted in the low voice she wasn’t at all comfortable with controlling.

“Me!” Draco flailed his arms, _her_ arms. “Why in the great Wizarding World would I do this? I can’t stay far enough away from you. I certainly don’t want to be in your filthy Mudblood body!”

“Draco Malfoy, if you use that term in front of me again, so help me you’ll serve detention with Mr. Filch until he retires.” The Headmistress had finally caught on and was staring daggers at the real Draco now. 

“This is completely your fault!” Draco pointed a slender finger at McGonagall. “Yours and that old sod’s.” He pointed at Dumbledore’s portrait. Hermione noticed that Dumbledore seemed to be watching their interaction with the same enthusiasm one might have when observing a game of Muggle chess. 

Suddenly it all fell together for Hermione, and she was slightly embarrassed that Draco had put it together before her. “The potion made us switch bodies? I thought you said others had tried it and there were no adverse effects.” She looked helplessly at McGonagall. “You can fix this, right? You, or Professor Slughorn?”

At this point, Dumbledore’s portrait decided to speak. “To be frank, none of the others who consumed the potion have had the volatile relationship the two of you had. Additionally, Miss Granger, there is nothing to fix.”

Everyone’s relatively calm demeanor was feeding Draco’s fury. He grabbed a fistful of Hermione’s curly brown hair. “You don’t think we need to fix this? I’m a bloody woman! I’m wearing a skirt!”

Both Hermione and Professor McGonagall showed tremendous self-control by not laughing at the last statement. Dumbledore did not bother to hide his amusement. “Indeed you are, Mister Malfoy. And as you stand here doing so, it’s evident that the potion took effect as anticipated. You see, the positions you and Miss Granger hold are intended to demonstrate comradery, leadership, and unity. When you argue, it is usually because you are refusing to look at a situation from another’s point of view. The potion rectifies that.”

Hermione thought she could see a vessel ready to pop near her temple. Never had she seen Draco Malfoy become vexed to the point of Muggle dueling, but it seemed likely just then. She wanted to put an arm on his, _her_ , shoulder, but thought better of it. Instead she asked, “What do we have to do to go back to our own bodies? Is there an antidote? Will it wear off?”

Dumbledore thought for a moment before replying. “There is not an antidote. In order to reverse what has happened, you must find a way to reconcile what caused it. If the change occurred overnight, the confrontation happened yesterday. If I were you, I would take the time to revisit whatever you undoubtedly squabbled over and find a way to resolve the argument you were having.”

Both Hermione and Draco were quiet, replaying everything from Defense class to the argument at the boat house. 

“Albus.” Professor McGonagall finally broke the silence. “Certainly there must be another way. I can’t allow for body transformations or exchanges of children.”

“As I understand it, Minerva, these are both adults who willingly consumed the potion, as were the Professors and previous Head Boys and Girls. Further, I am merely a painting, and I do not know of any other remedy for what has transpired than what my physical counterpart intended. I’m afraid I cannot be of more help. If you’ll excuse me...” Without waiting for any of them to complete their cries of indignation, he walked out of his portrait and did not reappear in the neighboring one. Again the room fell silent.

After a solid minute, Draco finally spoke. “Professor, may Granger and I be excused from classes today to sort out this absolute nightmare?” Although it was as polite as any request Hermione had heard herself make to the professor, she sensed an underlying tone that verged on murderous. 

They were not given a response immediately. “For today, yes. Although I suspect this will not be the last time this – er – situation will come to pass. Should you find yourself in this predicament again, you’ll be responsible for sorting it out yourself.” She took a seat and pulled a stack of parchment forward. “I’ll inform your instructors. I might suggest a classroom at the end of the corridor on the fifth floor. You shouldn’t be overheard there.”

Clearly dismissed, Draco and Hermione moved to the door, glaring daggers at one another.

**Part Three: Pretending for just one day**

“I don’t suppose it will be enough for you to say ‘I apologize,’ and we can go back to normal?” Draco asked only once they were within the confines of the classroom McGonagall had suggested. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. It wasn’t she who needed to apologize, but getting into a row wouldn’t help. “Knowing Dumbledore, it’s likely a little more in depth than that. Why don’t you start by admitting where you went wrong, and we can progress from there?” She took a seat and crossed her ankles.

“Don’t sit like that. You make me look like a ponce,” Draco spat, taking a seat on the top of a former teacher’s desk.

“Fine, so long as you keep your knees together like a proper young lady.”

Draco looked down, seemed to consider it, and then gave Hermione a grin that didn’t belong on her face. “I quite like the breeze, actually. So long as I’ve got this body, I might as well enjoy its perks.”

“Ten minutes ago you were shouting about wearing that skirt.” When Draco didn’t budge, Hermione crossed legs exaggeratedly, looking as feminine as possible.

Draco promptly grimaced and clamped his knees together. “Fine! Just stop it.”

“And Dumbledore thinks we can’t share perspectives,” Hermione mocked, righting her own posture to match what she thought was how Draco usually sat.

“About that, what exactly do you think we have to do? I wasn’t entirely joking when I said we should try just apologizing.”

“Something tells me we have to be sincere about why we are apologizing.”

They both each thought back on the day before, realizing they had spent most of the day fighting. Hermione thought they might die of starvation of she waited on him to go first.

“Alright then. I think you and the professor were right. I shouldn’t have tried to force you to laugh in front of every one. I’m sorry for pushing it that far.”

The look Draco made with her face convinced Hermione that he hadn’t expected her to actually say something he agreed with. “You hit a nerve,” she continued, “when you said I had to prove myself. It’s because you’re right. I don’t know why I do it.”

Enough time passed between them that Hermione wondered if she would be the only one to actually try to get their bodies back as they should be. “Well I’m sorry for calling you a pretentious cow.” She snorted, a noise that made Draco contort her face into a look of disgust. “What I meant was I understand why it’s difficult to trust me. I don’t think you do a particularly good job of it mind, but I am aware that I’m not the easiest person to like.”

“You were right though.” The shocked expression Draco made suggested he hadn’t expected her to say anything else. “I told Harry over and over again that he was wrong about you. All the way up until that night on the tower. You proved me wrong then, and I don’t think I do trust you.”

They both let out a quiet sigh and waited.

“Did we forget something?” Hermione voiced.

“No, Granger, I don’t think we did. Knowing my luck, if we are going to change back, it will be just like how we swapped to begin with.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t even remember it because I was-” Her eyes widened, earning a scowl from Draco. “You can’t possibly think we’ll have to sleep again!”

Draco hopped off the edge of the desk. “That’s precisely what I think. And if that’s the case, we ought to head straight to Pomfrey and get a sleeping draught administered. The sooner we are back to ourselves, the better.” Hermione nodded and followed him out of the room.

~~~  
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The elderly nurse tilted her head to the side. “Miss Granger, are you feeling alright? If you’ve consumed a babbling beverage, I’m afraid a sleeping draught won’t help.”

Draco clenched his fists near the waist of the skit he was wearing. “No, I mean that we each need one because the flibberstung hables ran assumpting.” Hermione wasn’t sure if Draco was going to cry or scream, so she attempted to step in.

“What Dra- What Granger means, Madame Pomfrey, is that because the tortuenga habersheez, ufental.” She and Draco stared wide-eyed at one another, donning on the awareness that was perplexing the witch before them. For whatever reason, they couldn’t talk to Pomfrey about the swap that had occurred.

“I’m not sure what you two have been up to, but I can’t just hand out sleeping draughts, especially in the middle of the day. They can be addictive you know, if taken too often and unnecessarily.” She pondered them a moment. “Have you two eaten anything strange lately?”

“We didn’t eat anything,” Draco started, “It was kerflackin hypurdation under fenrits.” He let out an agitated sigh before turning on his heel and heading toward the door. “Forget it. This isn’t working.”

Hermione glanced between her own retreating back and Madame Pomfrey. “Truly sorry to have bothered you,” she said before making a hasty exit as well. “Now what? Why can’t we tell her?”

“Some stupid side effect of the potion, no doubt,” Draco answered, leaning against the wall just outside the door of the Hospital Wing. “And before you ask, I suspect we could talk to McGonagall about it because she saw us drink it. She already knew.”

“Maybe we should ask her for a sleeping draught, or just brew one ourselves. It wouldn’t take long.” Hermione took a mental stock of her Potions supplies up in her dormitory, but Draco was shaking his head back and forth.

“Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, Granger. It would be the same thing as those Weasley’s trying to trick the age line to enter the Triwizard Tournament. A sleeping potion would probably prolong the effects. Face it, we’re stuck with each other’s… What was the word he used? Perspective?” Hermione nodded Draco’s head. “Each other’s perspective until we go to bed, maybe longer if we didn’t ‘reconcile’ properly.” He used her slender fingers to make quotation marks in the air. “This is absolute rubbish.”

The two stood quietly for a few minutes as they pondered Draco’s words. Chimes echoed through the hallways signaling the end of class. As if shocked into action, Hermione quickly pulled out Draco’s wand from her pocket and conjured a quill and parchment.

“What in the world is this?” Draco asked as she brandished the note to him.

“It’s my schedule. I already know yours. If we’re stuck like this for at least today, there’s no use waiting around. You should run back up to my common room and gather my satchel. Take good notes in Runes for me, please. We’ll have Transfiguration at the end of the day. Where you keep your school supplies?”

“Are you completely daft? We’re,” a group of Hufflepuffs made their way past the pair, causing Draco to lower his incredulous comment to a whisper. “We are in each other’s bodies! This isn’t like helping your sick mate so they don’t fall behind. I’m not taking your classes for you.”

Hermione stamped her foot in a most un-Malfoy manner. “I am not going to earn poor grades this year simply because we can’t get along. I can’t take your body into that class, particularly when neither of us can explain in any known language what is going on to us. Besides, do you want your precious Slytherin friends to suspect something is wrong? Do you want them asking where you and the Muggleborn were all day?”

Seconds ticked by as Draco weighed his options. “Fine.” He snatched the schedule from her hand. “Damn, Granger. What career do you intend to land when you get out of here? Overqualified sounds like a bit of an understatement.”

“Did you just give me a compliment?”

“Hardly.” Draco turned toward the landing that would take him up to the Gryffindor Common Room. “If you were really all that intelligent, you wouldn’t have to work so hard. You’d find someone else to do it for you.” Suddenly he stopped, closed the space between them, and whispered, “What’s the password into the tower?”

“Cooperation. What’s the password for the dungeons?”

He grimaced as though it caused him pain to say it. “House unity.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t they?” 

Draco merely nodded before again making his departure.

Hermione knew she had only ten minutes until morning break was over, so she made quick work of a secret passage, retrieved Draco’s bag from beneath his bed, and took a seat near the front of the room but off to the right, which was as close to Draco’s usual behavior as she could think of. Everything was going well until a shill voice broached her peace. “Draco, there you are!” Pansy Parkinson took the empty seat to Hermione’s left. For the first time all day, she felt real fear.

~~~

Before they began Transfiguration together in the afternoon, Hermione shared a quick knowing glance with her own brown eyes as they entered the classroom, then took a seat on the opposite side of the room. They wouldn’t normally talk or sit near one another, and they weren’t going to start now. As a result, they weren’t able to hold a discussion until dinner was over. Draco vacated the Gryffindor table, leaving a chattering Ginny mid-sentence, as soon as he saw Hermione peel herself away from Pansy, insisting the Headmistress had asked to see Draco again.

“How do you stand to be around her all the time?” Hermione whispered as she directed them toward the classroom they had used earlier.

“She’s not that irritating. You’re likely biased.” They continued on without conversation until they were again in the safety of the abandoned classroom. “We have a few points we need to cover.”

“Excellent,” Hermione plopped Draco’s body into the same seat she had used earlier. “Did you take notes? I know we were reviewing a theorem from yesterday in Arithmancy, but all the same-”

“Granger, shut up. We’re going to have to go to bed in each other’s common rooms. Normally I have a very specific bathroom routine, and I can already imagine how much of me you’ve seen. Did you go to the bathroom today?”

A red tinge broke out across her pale face. “No.” Now that he reminded her, she desperately needed to.

“Good. Just keep it that way. I know you’ve already seen me with my shirt off.” He paused to see her blush deepen. Even if Malfoy’s didn’t do that, he couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Dress me for bed just the same as you found me this morning, and we’ll be fine.”

Hermione nodded and then narrowed her eyes. “Did you go to the bathroom in my body?”

“Merlin, no! I avoided drinking anything all day.”

Hermione relaxed her shoulders. “Alright. Well.” She paused, realizing what Draco must have seen to get dressed this morning. He would have had to put on her bra! “Can you just go to sleep in what you’re wearing? It should be fine.”

“You want me to sleep in this obnoxious chest trap and a thick skirt? I’ll never get to sleep and we’ll be stuck like this another day.”

“Fine! Just don’t look.”

Draco made his way toward the door. “No worries there, Granger. Nothing to look at.” He left. Hermione didn’t move immediately. His words, spoken in her own voice, seems to swirl around her. Without prompting, she shook Draco’s head, stood, and left for the library. She would be able to hide near the back and complete some homework that was due the following Tuesday. That would take her mind off things.

**Part Four: And things were Going so Well**

It was another fitful night, but eventually Draco did fall asleep, surrounded by the gentle breathing of girls. When he regained consciousness, he refused to open his eyes, willing with everything in his body that he was in fact in his body. He marked that there were no floral scents or a mass of hair attempting to suffocate him on his pillow. With a tentative hand, he touched his forearm. It was firm, and his finger ran along a very light raise in his skin where his mark used to be. Energized, he opened his eyes to take in his dormitory. 

Several stories up, Hermione experienced a similar series of events. She noted the morning brightness behind her eyelids that didn’t penetrate the Slytherin dormitories. Carefully she reached up, burying her fingers in her comfortable, lengthy hair. Excited, she threw herself from bed and began to prepare for the day, more grateful to be in her body than ever before.

“You look nice this morning, Hermione,” Ginny greeted at the breakfast table. “I was worried you were coming down with something yesterday. You were so quiet in class.”

As Hermione sat she mindlessly reached up to feel where she had half-pinned back her hair. “Thanks. I’m just fine. There were a few Prefect issues to resolve yesterday is all. I was preoccupied.”

“You mean there were a few Head Boy issues?”

Hermione’s porridge was stopped in midair before she asked, “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You both skipped breakfast, and I overheard Pansy talking in the loo during break. Said he was acting very strange yesterday. I figured it had something to do with the fight you two had the day before.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “It’s completely ridiculous he even gets to have a badge. I doubt he takes it very seriously.”

“No. No to both. It doesn’t seem he’s taking it seriously, but I didn’t have any issues with him yesterday either. Perhaps he was the one who is ill.” She gave the slightest turn of her head to glance where Draco sat. “He seems fine today though.” Hermione suspected that Draco had also spent the morning primping more than usual. His hair was particularly shiny and his shirt was perfectly starched. There was even something that from far away could be considered a smile creeping up as he exchanged pleasantries with Blaise.

“All the same,” Ginny continued, not bothering to look in Draco’s direction, “It’s a shame you have to work so closely with him, what with all that happened last year and all.” 

Hermione returned her attention to Ginny, uncertain of which interaction with the Malfoys she was referring, but Hermione had a guess. She wanted to agree, but she suddenly caught sight of the Head Table and the Headmistress in the center. Hermione was supposed to be setting an example. “I imagine that’s part of why McGonagall arranged it. If he and I can collaborate productively, there’s no excuse for other students to antagonize one another. It follows a similar logic as my campaign for interschool unity a few years ago. After all, someone has to step forward and show everyone that it is a possibility.” Ginny got the same glazed look Ron did when Hermione talked of S.P.E.W., so she dropped it in favor of a swig of pumpkin juice. “Well then, I’d best be off to Defense. I’ll see you later.”

Perhaps Draco knew more secret passages and shortcuts around the castle than the average student. Before Hermione turned the final corner to the hall with their classroom on it, Draco stepped out from behind a tapestry, impeding her progress. She took a calming breath. “Can I help you? No offense, but I believe we’ve seen enough of one another for a lifetime.”

“I couldn’t agree more, which is why I think we shouldn’t talk to one another anymore. Ever.”

“Please tell me that you appreciate the irony of rushing up here to have a conversation about not conversing.”

“It’s not a conversation, Granger. If that little side effect is the result of us arguing, we will never argue again, understand?” 

More students were coming up the stairs to begin their lessons for the day. Draco and Hermione would be overtaken soon. The glare in his eyes told her that he would not entertain her counterpoints, so she merely nodded and shoved past him to class. 

It was perfectly typical in Hermione’s opinion. She slyly watched him occupy a desk as far away from her as possible and pondered how someone who had been through all that they had would assume running away from their problems was the answer. Imperceptibly she shook the thoughts away and opened her textbook. It wouldn’t be ideal and some schedules would need to be rearranged, but it could be done. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy would be the first Head students to go all but three days of the school year without exchanging a single word.

Such was the plan, and it was moderately successful for the next two months. 

~~~

“Granger! What is the meaning of this?” A piece of parchment was shoved so close to Hermione’s nose that she wasn’t able to make out her own tiny handwriting, but she knew precisely what it was.

“It’s a rounds schedule, Draco. You’ve received one Sunday afternoon for the last seven weeks. Do you need me to remind you how to read it?”

“Cut it out. I did read it, and there’s an error. Look here.” Draco pointed at the page with such ferocity one could guess he was aiming to tear a hole in it.

“No,” Hermione said without looking. She adjusted the strap of her book bag while covertly trying to find a way to escape. “It’s correct. That comes directly from McGonagall. If you have issue with it, take it up with her. Prefects have to patrol during the day of a Hogsmeade weekend. That leaves you and I to patrol that evening.” She took up her trek to Potions. Draco kept pace.

“Did you even bother telling her we are avoiding one another, or did you miss me so much that you jumped at the chance?” 

Hermione rounded to a full stop in front of him this time. “Listen here. The last two months have been the most peaceful of my life since I had the displeasure of serving detention with you in First Year. Stop believing you’re Merlin’s gift to wizardry when – ”

Her sudden halt caused Draco to look over his shoulder. No one was around. “What?”

“We’re arguing.”

They stared at each other hard for a moment before Hermione clarified. “I did tell Professor McGonagall about our situation. She felt that we could be civilized for one evening to give the younger students the night off. We don’t even have to patrol together. We can each take half of the castle, get the work done in half the time, and continue our lives as they have been.”

Draco merely nodded before stalking off in a paradoxically graceful way that only a Malfoy could. Hermione let out a quick sigh of relief before following at a distance. They didn’t so much as look at one another again until the night of their shared patrol, where they nodded to one another on the third floor landing before moving along paths that were nearly automatic.

The night was uneventful for the most part. Students had been given the opportunity to gather with friends in Hogsmeade, and many of the usual couples spent the entire day together snogging behind a store or in the corner of the crowded tea shop. Hermione had taken a peak at the number of write-ups turned in to be handed over to Filch, and it was substantial. All of the trouble-makers seemed to be taking the night off.

In fact, there was so little to do on the upper floors that Hermione took to investigating a few of the passageways hidden throughout the castle. It wasn’t until she came out near the kitchens that she realized she had taken a wrong turn somewhere, which wasn’t an issue until she heard footsteps. _Finally,_ she thought. While Hermione didn’t relish in handing out punishments, it seemed an utter waste of an evening to not even come across a student out of bed.

Hermione positioned herself in the main corridor that split off to the kitchens, Potions classrooms, and Slytherin dormitories. It took no time at all for a small boy, perhaps a third year, to show himself. He halted for a just a moment before trying to speed past.

“Excuse you. Just what do you think you’re doing out of bed?” The boy didn’t respond, but his direction and the green trim of his robes made it evident where he was going. “Stop right there.” Whether it was because of the fact that she wouldn’t let him be or the stern tone of her voice that resonated between the stone walls, the boy halted. “Turn around.” He did. “What is your name?” Hermione placed her hands on her hips.

“Let him alone, Granger, I already wrote him up.” Hermione half turned her head to see Malfoy standing very near. “He was just on his way back to the Common Room like I told him, weren’t you, Jeffery?” The boy nodded. Draco jerked his chin toward the end of the hall. The boy wasted no time in continuing his progress.

“Let me see it then,” Hermione said, rounding on Draco as her only prey for the night escaped.

“See what?”

“Let me see the write up.”

“Why are you even down here? You were patrolling the upper floors.”

“That’s not what I asked. Let me see it!” Hermione held out her hand impatiently.

“This is exactly like you!” Their raised voices caused Jeffery to pause momentarily, but realizing they weren’t shouting at him, he scampered off around the corner. Draco took a step closer to Hermione so that he towered over her. “What did you expect to find? Me not doing my rounds?”

“Quite the opposite. I thought you were doing your job. It turns out you weren’t. Had that boy been in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, you would have actually written him up and likely given him a harsher punishment than he deserved. You’re absolutely unreliable, Draco Malfoy. I’ll make certain he receives the punishment he deserves, because I certainly wouldn’t want him believing he could actually rely on you for anything.” Hermione intended to stomp off to her dormitory, but Draco’s hand gripped her arm forcefully.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. I took care of it. It sounds like you’re the one who has no one to rely on. Is that why you’re always looking over your shoulder? Always double-checking everyone else’s work? Do you actually think you’re the only one who can handle responsibility, or do you just have no real friends that have ever pulled their own weight?”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the man who’s supposed reliable friend died because he thought the best way to kill Harry, Ron, and I was to light the Room of Requirement on FIRE!” Even though Draco was half a foot taller than she was, Hermione felt no problem holding her ground in front of him. “You’ve never even had a friend Draco, not one you could depend on, not one who cared more about you than himself, and it’s not a surprise since you treat people exactly the same way.”

Draco pulled out his wand. For a half second Hermione though he was going to attack her, but he sent a forceful spell against the opposing wall. A large chunk fell to the floor and thick cracks spread out in a spider web pattern.

“What was that for?” Hermione screeched. No doubt Filch, Slughorn, and half of the Slytherins had heard the impact of what she guessed was a _Bombarda Maxima_.

“The potion, damn it! We’re going to have to go through that absolute Hell again tomorrow, and it’s your fault! This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk to you or be around you. You can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

“This is a two way street, Malfoy! The potion works if we’re fighting with one another, so don’t lay all of the blame on me.”

“Even now, you can’t just admit it!”

“Because you’re wrong!”

“Mister Malfoy! Miss Granger! What is the meaning of this?” The sound of Draco’s spell had been loud, but neither had expected Professor McGonagall to hear it all the way in her room or to reach them so quickly.

“Professor,” Hermione immediately shrank within herself, looking down at the floor. “We were just discussing a student’s punishment.” She expected Draco to take up the explanation, but he remained silent. “We disagreed, and-”

“The reconstruction on the West Wing isn’t even complete and you think it’s suitable to create more demolition in our castle? You’ll both serve detention tomorrow night and every night this week.”

Draco’s head snapped to attention at this. “Professor, could we perhaps delay the punishment for one night. I’m certain neither of us will feel ourselves tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what one day’s difference will make. You’ll be serving together. Clearly time apart has done nothing but make you more volatile around one another. You’ll serve tomorrow and the following six days, regardless of your _habitations_. Is that clear?”

It was evident that there was no point in arguing with her. McGonagall told them to be in the Potion’s classroom number three at six o’clock sharp the next night before dismissing them. The two shared a brief cold stare before sharply turning toward their own common rooms. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

~~~

The only mercy shown to the unfortunate pair was the following day was Sunday. They didn’t have to pretend to be one another in classes, and it was fairly easy to shake off their usual entourages. Draco told a vaguely curious Ginny that he, as Hermione, would probably be studying all day. The evident disinterest that passed the little Gryffindor’s face assured him that she wouldn’t attempt to join in. In an effort to be rid of Pansy, Hermione made a brief comment about seeing the Herbology professor, which she knew Draco took but Pansy didn’t. Although they hadn’t agreed to it, Draco and Hermione met in their abandoned classroom on the fifth floor early the next day.

Initially they raked their eyes over one another, assessing the other’s deception. “That’s not where my skirt rests. Do you even know where my hips are?” Draco had managed to hike a skirt up a little higher than she ever had, curious given with what confidence he bared her legs.

“That would require you to have hips, Granger. You’re as curvaceous as a broomstick. Would it have killed you to smooth out my hair? I know your mess hasn’t seen a brush in years, but surely you can’t have forgotten how to use one.” 

Truth be told, Hermione had tried. It turned out Draco’s seemingly perfect platinum style was the result of spells yet unknown to her. “Oh do get over yourself. I dare say Harry’s obstinately disordered hair would lie flat for me before this would.” She pointed at the short blond locks. 

Draco leaned back on the desk he had used as a perch the last time they were there before smirking at you. “Even my hair hates you. That’s somewhat reassuring.”

“You are incorrigible. At this rate we’ll spend more days this year as one another than ourselves.”

Draco cut her off. “Not a chance. Even if the castle is falling down around us, we are not going to say another word to one another this year, maybe in our lifetime. There’s no telling the extent of this potion, and I’m not spending one more day in this.” He gestured at the length of the body he inhabited.

Although Hermione shivered involuntarily at the thought of Draco being in control of her body, there was something in his firm refusal to even attempt to be civil with her that stuck like stink sap to her veins. It was true that they were like fire and oil when around one another, and the most effective method of not activating the potion had been avoidance, but a small part of her felt an uneasy pressure mulling over the idea that he rejected even the idea of her. Tucking the thought away, Hermione set Draco’s face into a hard glare. “Let’s get this over with then. Go on and apologize.”

“Excuse you. You were the beginning and the end of our problems last night. I’m convinced this curse is set in motion when just one of us is being unreasonable. You can’t deny that the weight of this issue is completely on your shoulders. Had you not come to check up on me, there wouldn’t have been a problem.” While Draco calmly explained his flawed logic, Hermione’s temper flared.

“For the last time, I was not checking up on you! I went down a passage and wound up downstairs where I found a student out of bed, one you said you had properly punished, but you were unable to provide evidence of said punishment. You were completely in the wrong to let that student off the hook so easily simply because he’s in your house. That’s blatant favoritism, and it’s a misuse of your power as Head Boy.”

Draco shook Hermione’s head back and forth and looked up at the ceiling as though she were misunderstanding a simple summoning charm. “That’s another thing. You didn’t have any right undermining me in front of him. I told you I had it handled.”

Hermione wanted to stamp her foot at his arrogance. “If you aren’t going to bother acknowledging that we won’t be put right unless we are genuinely apologetic, then you and I are stuck like this for who knows how long! If it’ll make you feel better to hear me say that I shouldn’t have followed you, then fine, I shouldn’t have. But if I walked out this door right now, I guarantee you we won’t be put back in our respective bodies, because I didn’t follow you, so that’s clearly _not the problem_.”

They were both standing, Hermione realizing for the first time in her life what it was to stand over someone and peer down into their eyes. “What do you want me to say then, Granger? How did your feelings get hurt this time? If we need to be genuine, as you say, then maybe you’re right, maybe we are stuck, because I genuinely didn’t do anything wrong, and you won’t hear me take the blame for something I didn’t do. I’ve already played the scapegoat. I’m tired of everyone acting like the entire war was my fault.”

“This has nothing to do with that, Draco – “

“It has _everything_ to do with that, it always does. You and everyone else look at me like I’m tainted, like I’ll let in another group of Death Eaters if you don’t keep a close enough watch on me. You know, the Dark Lord wasn’t a good person, but at least he was really clear about his intentions. If he liked you, you knew. If he didn’t, you died. It was often terrifying, but at least you weren’t constantly guessing about how soon you were going to be stabbed in the back by people who claimed they trusted you.” Hermione wasn’t able to process his words and form a response before Draco walked past his own body toward the door. “You know what? We can’t possibly switch back until tonight anyway. If I spend another minute in your presence, I’ll probably be sick. Maybe we can sort this out after detention tonight. Don’t be late.”

The door slammed as he pulled it closed. Left alone, Hermione quietly voiced the fear that was growing inside her. “What if we don’t?”

**Part Five: Faking Apologies**

After another long day of making herself as invisible as possible and completing all assignments that had been given so far, Hermione wandered down to the short path between the Slytherin Commons and the Potions room. Professor Slughorn was inside taking notes on a clipboard as he examined cauldrons that had been left to simmer overnight. “Ah, Draco, m’boy. As soon as Miss Granger is here, we can get started. Strange,” he said, keeping his nose away from the rim of a cauldron issuing an orange steam, “She is usually the first to arrive.”

Great, Draco was already giving her a bad reputation. If they didn’t sort their situation out before bed, chances were good he would have her ruined by Wednesday. She shook his head, determined to sort everything out. They had to. There was no way she could make it two days in a row without using the loo. Eventually someone other than Slughorn would notice, even if she and Draco couldn’t spread the news. She could only imagine what Harry, Ron, or Draco’s parents would do. It was best for them both, and that meant swallowing whatever pride they were managing to muster while occupying a foreign body and admit they were both wrong.

The door of the Potions room opened. Much to Hermione’s dismay, her own figure wasn’t making its way down the aisle between the desks. Instead, a determined Pansy Parkinson was heading right for her. “Draco! I just heard. You’ll be down here every night serving detention with that infuriating know-it-all? Why didn’t you tell me about this? What did she do to get you into trouble? And where have you been all day?”

“Well, erm-“ Hermione was aware that Draco never uttered half-formed thoughts, but she was unable to come up with decent excuses to Pansy’s rapid-fire questioning.

“I didn’t do anything, Parkinson.” Both Hermione and Pansy turned to see Hermione’s body standing with her arms crossed in the doorway. “Draco broke the rules, and he’ll get the punishment he deserves. Since you’re not serving detention, I suggest you leave, right Professor?” 

Slughorn had wandered off to the store cupboard briefly to check his inventory, but he emerged right then to second Draco’s words. “I’m afraid Miss Granger is quite right. They should be done in a few hours. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Miss Parkinson,” he dismissed.

If looks could kill, Pansy’s eyes would have stopped Hermione’s heart right there. Clearly outnumbered, she retreated out the door, closing it with more of a snap than was warranted. Straight away Slughorn set them to cleaning out old cauldrons and glassware without magic. “Make sure to dry them with the towels provided,” he remarked. “Salt residue from water spots can drastically affect the volatility of a potion. “I’ll be grading if either of you need me.”

The cleaning station was set up far enough away from Slughorn’s desk that once he sat down with his tremendous pile of essays, Hermione and Draco could hold a whispered conversation. “Thanks,” Hermione started. “I wasn’t sure what to say to Pansy that would satisfy her.”

“Don’t mention it. Besides, I was really just redirecting her aggression from me to where it really belongs: on you.” Hermione scoffed, earning a small grin from Draco. “You know, half of the reason it’s enjoyable to irritate you is that you respond so splendidly. Stop wearing your emotions on your sleeve and my face, Granger.” He looked down at the soapy bucket. “That looks more your style,” he said, reaching for one of the drying towels. “Just make sure you’re careful. I don’t want to accidentally get any leftover solutions on my skin. Who knows what those inadequate third years managed to brew.”

Hermione had a strong urge to toss the wet rag at him, but there was no telling the type of retaliation that could ensue while he still had control over her. Revenge would have to wait for another time. _Or never_ she thought. Picking up the sudsy wash rag, Hermione tried to pinpoint when she became so fiery. She theorized it had something to do with Harry and Ron not being around. They usually dove off of the deep end, and she was always there to rationalize for them. It was tough being to one to take the barbs from Malfoy and talk herself down from the ledge.

Glancing to her right, she noticed the look of surprise on her face. “Close your mouth, Draco. I’m not going to argue with you anymore. We have two objectives this evening: cleaning these cauldrons and pulling ourselves back into our own bodies. And before you start.” Draco had been about to cut across her. “I’m aware you don’t think you did anything wrong. If that’s the case, maybe we aren’t supposed to fix a misunderstanding. Maybe we’re supposed to be able to just talk without yelling at one another.”

“Do you really think that will do it?” The skepticism laced in her voice sliced through the quiet space between them.

“Truthfully, no.” She handed a newly clean cauldron over to him. “But it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe if we can demonstrate to the potion that we aren’t mad at each other it will release us from the switch. I can’t think of anything else.”

Draco was quiet for a few minutes, though as Hermione glanced over at his clumsy work, she suspected he may have sincerely been concentrating on drying. “What should we talk about then? The weather?”

“Sure. It’s been a bit rainy, don’t you think?”

“It hasn’t rained since last weekend during the Quidditch match.”

“That’s not true. It was raining two days ago during afternoon break.”

“That was hardly a drizzle, Granger. You spent months camping out in the woods with the Dundering Duo and you don’t know the difference between a sprinkle and rain?”

“You’re terrible at making non-argumentative conversation.” She handed him another cauldron and picked up a third, noticing a crusty buildup on the bottom. 

“Well you’re awful at making conversation at all.”

“You’re the one who brought up the weather.”

Draco actually stopped his jerky drying motion. “Have you never heard of sarcasm?” He raised Hermione’s eyebrows all the way up to her bangs.

“I’m aware of what sarcasm is, Malfoy. I thought the weather might be a safe topic for us.” They both continued their work, unable to find a fresh start for roughly twenty minutes. “So, you and Pansy? Is that an official sort of thing?”

Draco pressed his lips together, though Hermione couldn’t tell if it was from his effort or her question. “It’s a personal sort of thing, Granger. That’s a worse topic than the weather.”

“At least I’m trying. What’s the deal with you and her anyway? I’ve experienced how she acts around you. I can’t imagine you find her company particularly stimulating.”

“Conversationally, no, she isn’t. Physically, she – ”

Hermione held up her hand. “No, I don’t need to know.”

“You might. We usually spend Saturday nights together. She lost out last night because of rounds, and now we’re here. If she’s looking for a good fix, she’ll be sure to find you before we meet her tomorrow night to get her share of alone time.” A little color drained from Draco’s already pale face as Hermione considered the implications. 

“What if we don’t switch back!” she whispered harshly. They both cast a quick glance over their shoulders toward Slughorn who was still mostly hidden behind his stack of papers. It didn’t seem as though he was making much headway.

“Consider it motivation, Granger.”

“Why do you seem to be lacking motivation of your own? I thought you wanted to be back in your own body and keep me out of it.” 

“Certainly, but I can’t change that we are in fact switched, and listening to the littlest Weasley go on in your Commons gave me some time to think about all of the mischief I could get up to disguised as you. Don’t worry though.” Hermione was ready to really throw the rag at him. “I don’t intend to unless you force my hand. There’s no need to hem your skirts a few inches or randomly snog an unsuspecting Hufflepuff so long as you manage to set the two of us right before I get that urge.”

Hermione stood with Draco’s mouth agape. “Did it not even occur to you that I have as much influence over your life as you do mine?”

“Yes, it did, but all things considered, you have a might higher pedestal to fall from than I. If I curse a professor in your body, you’d be sent to St. Mungo’s straight away. If you do the same thing as me, few would be surprised.” Hermione heard her voice loose some of the entertained emotion Draco had put into his comparison. “The point is, I can do a lot more damage than you can.”

Another silence fell between them as Hermione considered her options. She wanted to argue about everything he had said, namely that it was her duty to right the situation. He was as much to blame as she, but if he was unwilling to admit it or make himself vulnerable as he had before, they might very well be stuck as one another forever. After a week or two, what would he do to or with her body? Her imagination ran wild with possibilities, each more embarrassing than the last.

“Alright, I’m sorry for following you down to the dungeons.”

Draco stilled the hand he had finally managed to work into a circular drying motion. “What?”

“You were right. I thought you might have gone straight for your Common Room and taken the night off.” Hermione stared unblinking at the space she was rubbing raw on the cauldron, trying to make her lie believable. “I just wanted to make sure the corridors were clear. I shouldn’t have made a scene in front of that first year either.” That part may have been slightly true. Hermione sincerely doubted lying like this would work, but if it eased Draco into also apologizing, even some, maybe the potion would take pity on them and revert them to their normal status.

 _That’s utterly mad. Potions don’t work that way._ Then again, potions were supposed to work for a short period of time, a few hours to possibly a week. Theirs had been in their system for months and still seemed to be holding strong. 

As she was thinking, Professor Slughorn moved up between them. “Well, you’re not as far along as I would have hoped, but it will due. Be sure to show up on time tomorrow, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy, I’ll accompany you back to the Slytherin Commons. I need to check in on a few of your peers.”

Hermione felt Draco’s eyes go wide as she recognized that he hadn’t tried to make amends yet. They were going to be stuck like this for another day! She cast a worried glance at her own body, but Draco was the picture of calm. “Yes, sir,” Hermione said, following Slughorn out of the room and left, deeper into the dungeons. Again visions of Draco’s fury over their body swap and the potential retribution he would inflict danced in her mind. The only calm to her shaky nerves as she crawled into his bed that night was McGonagall. She knew about their issue, and certainly she would be able to properly punish him should occasion arise.

**Part Six: Unexpected Revelations**

When Draco woke the next morning, he felt a pit form in his slimmer than usual stomach. He was still in Granger’s body! He opened her brown eyes and immediately furrowed her brow, glaring daggers at the red hanging canopy. If he were being honest with himself, she had actually given the whole take the high road and apologize thing a good show. She had even come clean about following him. That meant the know-it-all had been right about them both needing to give a little. What had he said to her that night that was sticking up the picky potion?

As the day unfolded, Draco had very little time to think through their conversation and precisely what he would need to do to remedy the situation. During breakfast Ginny Weasley fought to hold a lengthy conversation with him right up until the warning signal for their classes rang. Granger’s first three classes all required actual wand work rather than note-taking, and he knew he needed to practice for his own sake as well as appearances. Their end of term exams were not too far off. Then there was the ever-present urge niggling at the back of his mind, or rather, in his belly.

After lunch, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He slipped into a girl’s bathroom on the fourth floor and locked himself into the stall furthest from the door. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how girls used the loo, and he had been forced to touch her undergarments already, but he had done so with his eyes closed. Pressing need in the form of her bladder swollen to the size of a Bludger dictated he get the deed over and done with. Once relieved, he was just about to vacate the stall when the bathroom door opened and three girls entered. Their conversation halted him.

“I don’t know why Ginny is even making an effort to spend time with her,” a voice said. Draco recognized it as one of the Ravenclaws he shared Transfiguration with. “I mean, Granger thinks she’s so much better than the rest of us. You saw how she was behaving at breakfast this morning.”

“It’s true.” Another girl let out a defeated sigh. This one sounded like the Gryffindor who had sat beside him during breakfast. “She wouldn’t even give Ginny a real answer. And what’s she doing here anyway? Harry and Ron and all of the others left. The Minister made them all Aurors. She doesn’t need to finish school.”

“I know exactly why she’s here.” The third girl was clearly a Slytherin, but a fifth year girl Draco only saw every so often. Clarissa was her name. She was something of a social climber, which explained why she was with these two. They didn’t come from a great deal of money so far as Draco knew, but they were older and had come out on the right side of the war. It was common for the younger Slytherins to seek out friends that made them look good. It didn’t curb their catty tendencies though. “She’s here because she has nowhere else to go. The only reason she’s even famous is because of Potter, and the only thing she’s good at is answering teacher’s questions.”

Clarissa paused long enough to let the other girls bask in her clarifying wisdom. “Think about it. She’s an eternal show off. It’s sad, really. How will she make it in the real world if the only people impressed by her are first years and professors?”

“I don’t know,” the Gryffindor girl piped up. “She’s obnoxious, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t talented. Brightest witch of our age and all. She could probably do plenty of remarkable things for the Ministry or anywhere.”

Clarissa scoffed, “If that were the case, she wouldn’t be here. Face it. Hermione Granger is all brains and no purpose.” Draco heard what sounded like a clasp closing sharply, probably a makeup compact, and the three girls started moving toward the door. “The reality is she doesn’t belong here. I almost feel sorry for her.”

Then Draco was left alone in the stall considering all the girls had said and the sudden burning feeling he had to step out of the bathroom and send a stinging jinx at the spiteful fifth year. Most of what she had said about Hermione was merely Slytherin rhetoric, but it wasn’t true, and something deep inside of him felt mildly possessive over her. Perhaps it was only because he had been in her body for two days now. Perhaps he felt another Slytherin was encroaching on his favorite target. He stormed out of the bathroom and headed straight for his next class, hoping for their sake that he didn’t cross paths with those three gossipy girls.

~~~  
That evening Hermione sat in the corner of the Slytherin Common Room, rounding off her concluding paragraph for an essay. As she skimmed the page for the reference she was summarizing, the curve of someone’s skirt flashed in her periphery half a second before Pansy took a seat on the edge of her work table. She paid no mind to the books, parchment, or inkwell she nearly upended in the process.

“Draco,” she half purred, half whined. “You’re always doing homework. I haven’t spent any alone time with you in days.” Hermione was completely blocked off from completing the assignment now that Parkinson had her bare legs crossed at the knees over the edge of the table and was leaning so far forward Hermione saw the trim of her black lace bra peeking out from the top of her unbuttoned shirt. Her first thought was to warn Pansy of her dress code violation, but the Slyherin cut off her train of thought by placing a delicate hand on Draco’s neck and pulling his chin up. Hermione panicked.

“Uhm, yes, well.” Hermione frantically attempted to piece together a refusal that would sound like Malfoy. “You know the professors are harder on me than all of the other students. I’ve just been trying to-“ She stopped when she noticed Pansy wasn’t looking at Draco’s face anymore. She was scanning the room over her shoulder. The room, Hermione realized, was completely empty.

Pansy returned her attention to the man before her, grinning fiercely. “Well, look at that. We’re all alone.” Without prompting, she unhooked her ankles and spread her legs. When Hermione didn’t react, barely able to process the fact that she was looking up another girl’s skirt, Pansy initiated by sliding off the table, straddling Draco’s legs, and taking his head in both hands. Five seconds into snogging with her, Hermione recovered from her shock enough to grip Pansy’s wrists and carefully push her back. 

“What is wrong with you?” They questioned in unison.

Hermione realized she was probably not behaving as Draco would, but she would be damned if she would grope Pansy’s arse for the sake of appearances. Pansy’s narrowed eyes were demanding a response. “I have to get to detention is all. Can’t be late.”

Pansy scoffed. “You mean to tell me that you’re willing to leave this,” she gestured at the length of her body, still resting in Hermione’s lap, “for Slughorn.”

“Well no, that’s not what I mean,” Hermione back peddled.

“Oh, then it’s Granger.” Pansy’s voice had dropped several degrees.

“Pansy, you know that’s preposterous. I hate her.”

“Right.” She stood and smoothed down her skirt. “Sure, Draco, you hate her. That’s why you continue to play Head Boy and agreed to go on rounds with her this weekend instead of staying in with me.” She crossed her arms.

“There wasn’t anyone else. You and all of the other Prefects had done rounds during the day. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Hermione stood at this point, pretty sure Draco wouldn’t have taken these accusations literally sitting down. “Besides, we’re in the Common Room for Merlin’s sake!”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Sure. She couldn’t have asked anyone else. You could have just come back here. She wouldn’t have known. It’s not as if we’ve been serious about duties. They’ve always been an excuse to wander the halls alone.” Her voice became a little husky again as she leaned in to Draco’s check. “It’s not like being in public has ever stopped us before.”

Still backed against her chair, Hermione could only guide Pansy back again by resting Draco’s palms on her shoulders. “Look, I’m not feeling much myself. Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow. I do have to go.” With a quick wave of Draco’s wand, Hermione packed her work up into a satchel. 

“Draco Malfoy, you do not get to walk away from me!” Hermione was already halfway across the room. She could probably sprint out the door before Pansy got another word out, but that didn’t seem dignified enough for her current body. “I mean it. If you walk out of here, we. Are. Through.”

Hermione stilled. What could she do? It wasn’t fair to Draco to ruin a relationship for him, but the alternative, the one that likely involved little clothing and faking pleasure seemed revolting. She couldn’t miss this opportunity to make amends with him and possibly right their bodies. Besides, he was a smooth talker and, if rumors were true, Pansy was head over heels for him. She wouldn’t be mad for long, right? He would have this whole mess patched up in a day or two.

“I’m really sorry, Pansy,” Hermione said, turning back for just a moment. “Please talk to me tomorrow.” As the stony wall fell into place behind her exit, Hermione thought she heard a faint screech, but it was quickly silenced by the moving bricks. 

~~~

The closer she got to Slughorn’s classroom, the more nervous Hermione became. Maybe she should wait until Draco was no longer in control of her body to inform him that he was suddenly single. She paused outside the classroom door. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now, and perhaps it wouldn’t be such a big deal. She wasn’t one to give relationship advice, but it didn’t seem as though it was a great loss to be rid of Pansy Parkinson. 

“Excuse me… Draco?” Hermione turned. It was Jeffery, the third year Draco had let off the hook the other night. He looked over his shoulder and then smiled up at Hermione. “I wanted to say thank you, I mean,” he paused, mulling over his words, and then stood up a little straighter. “I wished to tell you that I greatly appreciate your – discretion with the Head Girl the other night.”

Hermione wanted to question him but was aware that Draco would already know what he had been covering up, so she merely nodded. “Of course. She and I are serving detention tonight for it. I suggest you hurry along.”

Slytherins were capable of surprising things, particularly when they were backed into a corner. Never would Hermione have thought it possible that Jeffery, still obviously learning the intricacies of not showing too much emotion, threw his arms around Draco’s torso. “Thank you,” he said quickly before straightening again and running off.

“What in the world?” Hermione whispered to herself. 

“Talking to yourself, Malfoy?” Hermione glanced up the hallway to see her own figure approaching. “That’s not like you,” Draco whispered once he was close enough. 

“Why did Jeffery hug you?” Hermione asked quickly, watching her face fall at Draco’s surprise. 

“We’re late for detention,” he muttered quickly, brushing their hands as he reached for the doorknob. 

Slughorn saw the both and quickly set them to work relabeling bottles that had been spilled or washed so much that the current bottles were covered or worn away. Occasionally Hermione would whisper another variation of her question about Jeffery, but Draco wasn’t budging. Finally she admitted, “You know, it doesn’t really matter. Clearly I misjudged you again, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s a family thing, a secret he asked me to keep.” Hermione waited. Eventually he added, “There’s nothing to be done about it. Old families have old traditions. He just needed some space to deal with some bad news. I probably should have escorted him back to the Common Room myself, but he also needs to learn not to be so soft.” Draco shook his head so that Hermione saw her curls fall into his face. “Bloody hair,” he muttered, trying to shake it back to avoid getting ink into it.

“Here,” Hermione offered, pulling out her wand. 

“What are you going to do to my hair?”

“It’s my hair, remember? And I’m saving it.” With a quick flick of the wrist, the hair was pulled up into a pile that defied gravity. “It doesn’t look great, but it will keep it out of your way.”

“Thanks.”

They worked along in silence again, but Hermione caught him glancing at her two or three times. “What is it? Have I got something on your face?”

“No, I need to say sorry too, and it’s somewhat uncomfortable.” Hermione shook her head and continued to work, waiting for the apology to come naturally. “When I said you don’t have any real friends, I guess I didn’t realize I was actually hitting close to home.”

Hermione put down the bottle she was holding. Her response took Draco’s voice up an octave. “I have friends,” she said indignantly.

“That’s not what I mean. Yes, you have Potty and Weasle and the other Weasle, but…” What was he actually trying to say? “I just overheard something today, some people talking. I can imagine it’s hard for you to come back to the school. People treat you differently than before, right?”

At this, Draco looked right into his own eyes, making Hermione completely stop her labeling. She was aware those were her eyes, the ones she had looked into almost every morning in the mirror, but she could feel Draco behind the hard gaze. She could only nod.

“Right, well. Don’t listen to them. Clarissa and the others don’t understand much about the world or you. They still have an idealistic view of how people treat one another so long as they aren’t behind your back.”

“You must have a really low opinion of me if you think I buy into bathroom gossip.”

“I don’t, actually. And even if you don’t believe it, sometimes it’s hard to ignore.”

“Did you just – ”

“Pass me that bottle, would you?” Hermione hesitated before handing the next bottle over, ending the conversation. 

In the ensuing silence, she pondered for perhaps the first time in her life the similarities between herself and Draco Malfoy. Of course people had plenty to say about him too, everything from ridiculous accusations that he was still working for an underground sect of the Death Eaters to those proclaiming his double-sided espionage that mirrored Snape’s. He didn’t seem to have anyone who really took the time to get to know him except for Pansy. _Pansy!_ She still had to tell him.

“I was wondering… How long have you and Pansy been an item?” 

Draco flashed her a smirk that made her wonder how no one had yet guessed that her body was being controlled by him. “What’s your recent fascination with Pansy? Or have you decided the best way to pass the time is to play twenty questions?”

“No, not exactly, although it might help if I knew more about you considering…” Hermione found she couldn’t quite get the words out and glanced up to see Slughorn peering over at them. “Considering the circumstances,” she finished, making a show of carefully writing “Bat Spleens” on a new label.

Draco took what she figured was a calming breath. “I’m thinking of sacrificing to Slytherin’s ghost to put us right so that we won’t have continuing circumstances.” He paused briefly. “All things considered though, perhaps you’re right. Pansy and I have been more or less exclusive since the middle of fifth year, though I didn’t have much time for her then.”

“Why did you start a relationship if you didn’t have time for it?”

“One question at a time. Have you ever slept with Weasley?

“I beg your pardon!”

“It’s a legitimate question,” Draco defended. “We all know you and Krum were a thing but didn’t get it on. The jury is still out on Weasle King though. I feel as though I have a right to know where this body has been.”

“You’re perverse.”

“I’m going to assume by your adamant refusal that the answer is yes. Is it possible to _Scourgify_ layers of skin, I wonder.”

Hermione sighed. “No, okay. The answer is no. We were a little preoccupied during our brief relationship with trials and public appearances.”

“So you’ve never then?”

“No. I haven’t. Moving forward, or backward, whatever it is. Why did you and Pansy date if you weren’t invested?”

“Can I get a skip on that one?” Hermione tilted Draco’s head in question. “It’s a bit like Jeffery’s situation. Family influence and all.”

“Your family made you date her? Why are you still together then?”

Draco tried to run a hand through Hermione’s hair but got his fingers caught in the knot. “Just trust me that it’s more complicated than that, and no one will ever ask you about it, so I don’t need to explain it. Is it true you erased your parents’ memories?”

“I did, and I sent them out of the country. I found them over the summer though. They’re back home now.” It had been such a difficult thing attempting to explain to a middle aged couple that they were in fact her parents and to convince them to let her restore her memory by brandishing what seemed to them to be a carved stick. “What do you think you’ll do after you’re done with this year?”

They went back and forth in a quiet whisper as the hours of their detention dragged on. Hermione knew he needed to tell him about Pansy, but there didn’t seem to be a good time after they left the topic. Besides, a part of her really thought if it was a family issue, then Pansy dumping him would negate that control they were trying to extort over him. Eventually Slughorn sent them away, commending them on their ability to get along well enough that they had finished two nights’ worth of work. “I’ll discuss with the Headmistress about having your sentence reduced. Good night.”

“Here’s hoping we wake up in our own beds tomorrow,” Hermione said once the classroom door was shut behind them.

“You know, the alternative sounds a little scandalous.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hope so, although I don’t get tired of looking at that body.”

Hermione made a quick retreat before Draco could offer any more compliments to his own physical appearance. While she did agree that he was easy on the eyes (maybe she had spent a few seconds too long examining his muscular torso in the mornings), she didn’t like the thought of the words literally coming out of her mouth. She fell into bed that night hoping they would wake up exactly as they should. 

**Part Seven: When their Opinions Don’t Matter Anymore**  
They did. Draco knew it. He _felt_ it, felt the chill of his sheets and how his toes could brush against the far bedpost if he stretched just a little because his legs were longer than Grangers. They had done it! He sat up in his bed and peered around. Even though he saw only the emerald curtains, a wash of relief at the familiar sight had him smiling wide. Everything from the fractionally tilted mirror beside the door to the slight stench of one of his roommate’s socks was inviting. He wondered briefly if he had been slipped an Elixir to Induce Euphoria, but knew that wasn’t the case.

Everything was so grand in fact that Draco spent the next three days decidedly not insulting anyone. He earned the second top score on a Transfiguration exam. Additionally, he was able to hold a conversation with Hermione during their third night in detention. At the conclusion of which, Slughorn informed them that they had been sufficiently punished and were excused from further work. 

It stood to reason then that sooner or later his good luck would run out. It was a pattern Draco had seen many times in his life. He would get something he desperately wanted, the chance to become friends with Potter and then Weasley took it (admittedly, he probably dodged a hex there), a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team only to lose to the same Gryffindor Seeker, and an in with Rita Skeeter to destroy Potter’s reputation before she was captured by that fluffy-haired Gryffindor princess. The list went on, but somehow the Golden Trio was always in the thick of the unfortunate turn of events that was his life. When his eagle owl delivered a letter one morning at breakfast and Draco saw the firm Malfoy family seal on the flap of the envelope, he couldn’t ignore the twist in his gut or the automatic glance at Granger. 

The letter was brief and direct, but every line Draco read felt like a heavy weight so that by the time he was done, he could barely piece together the closing and signature. Again Draco glanced at Granger. _What had she done?_ This time, she was staring back. In fact, most of the Great Hall had diverted their attention to Draco Malfoy and the strange shout he had unknowingly emitted. He didn’t have time for pleasantries or showmanship. Instead, he marched directly to the Gryffindor table, informed Hermione that they needed to have a conversation, and all but hauled her up by the arm when she tried to stall by saying she needed to finish her pancakes.

“Now, Granger!”

They left a nearly silent Great Hall and proceeded to their abandoned classroom. He held the door, waited for her to pass, closed it, locked it, and placed a silencing ward before finally turning to look at her. Although she sat in her usual place, in her own body for a change, she sensed this time was different. Both of them thought the same thing. If they had another argument, they would wind up right back in one another’s bodies. Draco was clearly trying to find the words to both question and accuse her, but he couldn’t trust himself not to shout. Finally, he thrust the letter out to her and waited.

_Draco,_

_We’ve heard you and Pansy have ended your relationship. Your mother and I agreed long ago that we would allow you to have the freedom of dating, within certain parameters of course, but as you’re nearly finished with schooling and your boyhood girlfriend is no longer in the picture, it is time you begin preparing for your most important duty: carrying on the Malfoy line._

_I’m certain you remember Amarante Lorainne. You and she spent some time together when Beauxbatons visited for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She and the Delacour were quite good friends according to your mother. Although at the time she was a few years older than you, you’re both now at the proper age for marriage. Your mother has been in contact with Amarante’s parents for the past week. The family will visit over Christmas vacation. I believe the date is tentatively set for July._

_I wanted to formally extend my congratulations. Our family has endured a tremendous amount of embarrassment over the last few years. This pairing will remind the Wizarding World that the Malfoy name carries prestige and prominence. I know you’ll make us proud.  
Your Father_

The ruffle of the parchment was amplified and the still room. “Draco, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this… I wasn’t trying to…” Hermione would have preferred he shout at her than let her mutter a perplexed apology to his cold glare. “I’m certain we could fix this. You could talk with Pansy, right? I didn’t say anything exactly. I didn’t mean to break it off with her. I was just trying to leave for detention and she wanted me to stay. I thought you would be able to right it if you wanted to.”

Without warning, Draco slipped his wand from his pocked and hurled a curse at a bookshelf that was barely holding the tomes stacked haphazardly upon it. The texts exploded, sending a shower of mildew-riddled pages flying on that half of the room. “This isn’t something that can be fixed, Granger. I can’t take it back. Pansy and I had a deal, and you managed to walk out on it in three days. Even if I genuinely wanted her back, she’s told my parents, and they’re talking to Amarante’s parents. I’ll be married off by graduation.”

“You don’t have to do this! It’s not legal. It’s can’t be.”

A dark, nearly sinister chuckle broke out from Draco’s lips. “Legal? Tell me, Hermione. When was the last time you considered the name Malfoy to be synonymous with legal? I told you the other night. Old families have old traditions.”

Hermione stood up and shoved the parchment back into his chest. “You hate when people point out that you follow your family, that you couldn’t make choices for yourself and that’s why people died. If you can’t make decisions when another person’s life hangs in the balance, fine, but if you’re not willing to stand up for yourself and your future, then I don’t want to be in this room with you another minute.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Prove them wrong!” Hermione nearly shouted. “Show them all who you really are, like you showed me.”

In that moment, despite all pretense or potential compunction, Draco gripped Hermione’s shoulders, leaned in, and kissed her. 

Carefully Hermione put her hands on his chest and pushed ever so slightly. “I don’t know if this… if that was… why did you do that?” She searched for reason in his steel grey eyes.

“Because I think you’re the only person to ever truly believe in me, and you’re the last person I would ever expect to.”

“I suppose a lot can change when you look at something from another person’s perspective.”

They stood in that relaxed embrace for several minutes before resolving to break the marriage deal Lucius and Narcissa had established. Hermione was positive it would take a few owls to the Ministry, which she wasted no time in sending. They both knew it wouldn’t be easy, and that there would be some media backlash, but they quickly realized it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what the other kids at school thought, what his parents thought, or what Ron and Harry thought. What mattered was that they had finally found in each other someone they knew would look for the truth before the gossip.


End file.
